


sweet dreams are made of this

by GlassBeetle



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 04:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19418755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassBeetle/pseuds/GlassBeetle
Summary: Theon Greyjoy is forgiven, and dreams.





	sweet dreams are made of this

Thin blades of grass blew in the whistling wind. Like a pool of water, the grey sky reflected the grass, this mirror image moving in the opposite direction. It was as if he were standing in a ragged riptide. There was space save only in the middle of where the blades of grass didn’t touch, grey sky heavy with overflowing clouds and murkiness. It was as if looking into a cauldron, as greys blended into each other, blacks and whites and hints of blues disappearing into one another. it seemed as if you stared long enough it became stagnant, and made out of the same color altogether. Theon threaded a finger through the air, touching a blade of grass, submerging more and more of his finger until the finger melted into the green.

The room changed, morphing into a familiar scene. A dripping dungeon, rich with petrichor. The walls were dilapidated, but in a way that made him feel as if he knew this place. A long row of stairs that seemed to never end jutted up from the cold basement floor. He could distantly hear Varys to his side, speaking, but his words were a mumble in his mind, like water slipping through his fingers. He climbed the steps of the attic, leaving Varys behind. At the top, sitting out of place with the entire room, was a maroon wood door. It looked brand new and had a luster to it, it shone as if it weren’t wood at all. But the tell tale signs of chipped paint gave it away. He gripped the handle, warm to the touch, and twisted. The door didn’t lead up into a house, but rather into the warm summer air.

A lone road stretched as far as the eye could see. Green, surrounding everything. A rainforest in the middle of nowhere it seemed. Everything was a wonderful blend of greens, and the unmistakable summer sun drooped heat unto a clean, nicely kept camp. It was still burning. Sansa Stark and Jeyne Pool sat around it, nursing the fire with sticks. He approached the two, taking a seat next to Jeyne. “Oh hello Theon!” Sansa’s clean voice seemed to chirp. It was as if she had just realized he was here. Her voice had a quality to it that rang of nostalgia, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was sweet, and reminded him of childhood in Winterfell. Jeyne Poole was silent, but had a warm smile on her face. Theon hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d seen her smile. He felt content, as he rested his head against the glass of the station, and listened to the idle chatter of Sansa and Jeyne.

When he opened his eyes, the scene had changed. A long dining table with rows of chairs seemed to extend for as far as he could see. In front of him, was an empty throne, sat on a podium. Rows and rows of dining tables exactly like the first filled the room. The entire room was empty, but as he turned his head back around in the direction towards the chair next to him, a figure seemed to materialize. Robb Stark smiled warmly at him. He picked up his fork and knife and began to eat. Theon stared blankly at Robb, wishing he could find the words he wanted to say. “Not hungry?” Robb asked, motioning towards his untouched plate of food. Theon picked up his fork gingerly, joining Robb. They dissolved into a comfortable silence, the strange sense of contention passing over him again. When his meal was done, he was at the Dreadfort.

A hand caressed his cheek, and if he didn’t already know better he could’ve mistaken it for adoration. He felt the sting on his cheek, recognizing passively that he had been struck. Everything moved passively, he registered but didn’t feel. He was laid down onto his back, (softly, as if he _wanted_ him-) his eyes never focused on his face, and the room divulged into wonder. Caterpillars the size of cats with bright fluorescent colors moved in lazy patterns across the ceiling, their colors seeming to be perpetually everything at once. Beetles scuttled across the floor, their black shells shining like gasoline, blues and reds meeting and ending. All he gave was a gasp as he was shoved into, but even that seemed as if had come from someone else. Above him, he could hear someone muttering, _Reek_ , he made out. But it felt as if it were being called from a thousand miles away. He felt a hand squeeze on his throat, and when his vision began growing spotty and hazy at the edges, the caterpillars disappeared, the beetles scuttled back from where they’d came, and there was a low groan above him and he was at the Iron Islands.

This time, he laid in the sand with Asha. Theyellow beach was warm under his palm, and the taste of salt floated across the beach. The bright sun bore down, encompassing everything with heat. The ocean was calm today, and there was barely any wind. The waves glittered in the sun, like diamonds floating on the surface. When he turned to Asha, she was smiling. He felt his own smile as Asha leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and when she pulled away, she closed her eyes and leaned back. The ocean became made of dazzling white sharks, fish and whales forming what had looked at first sight to be sea-foam. When he came to lean down beside her, the gentle sound of waves rocked him into silent sleep beside Asha.

When Theon Greyjoy opened his eyes for the final time, he awoke in the Godswood.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this really quickly, sorry for the quality.


End file.
